


Carmen Aeternum (Eternal Song)

by wcdarling



Series: Carmina [2]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Vampire Chronicles, Vampires, ancient vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wcdarling/pseuds/wcdarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius is in bliss. Formosus is reading poetry. The world smiles on them both. Could happiness be this easy? Or must pain always play a part? Let the tragedy begin!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story in the long Carmina* series and the most overly dramatic / angsty part of the series. I wanted the action to encompass more than Formosus seducing one vampire after another.
> 
> *Carmina  
> This series of stories -- the first real fan fiction I ever really attempted, in about 2000 -- focuses on Marius and a new male character of my invention. The main focus of this story is the notion of vampires' relationships to the times in which they lived as mortals and their relationship to the centuries as they pass. Includes historical fiction, romance, poetry, and light slash. Most of the action takes place post-TVA but certain aspects of that story are ignored. I will be posting this entire series to AO3 over times, one story cycle at a time.
> 
> My creative inspiration in writing these stories came from several sources: 1) Pandora, a lovely and underrated novel, 2) the poems of Horace, who lived during Marius' mortal lifetime, 3) the film Gladiator (as historically inaccurate as it is); 3) and study of Roman history. And though there is MUCH historic and literary inaccuracy in this I am sure, well, sorry, I was having fun.
> 
> I confess I was on the fence about even sharing this series on AO3 it's rather embarrassing to me now (OMG, is it ever!!!!) but yeah... I will be posting this entire series to AO3 over times, one story cycle at a time.
> 
> Spoilers  
> Virtually none, but action takes place post-Armand. This should be read after ["Carmen Antiquum."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7240615/chapters/16438663) The next story in the series is "Carmen Novum."
> 
> Categories  
> Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst.
> 
> Rating  
> PG  
> Some pain and suffering but not too graphic.  
> Also, OC is a teenager in appearance ONLY.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formosus shares his newfound love of 20th century poetry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See story intro above.

The night air was warm and moist, smelling of green, as Marius settled himself in his favorite chair on the garden patio, ready to read the daily newspapers. He appreciated the presence of routine in his life and now that Armand and the children had gone out of town, the routine was deepening in its resonance, even as it gained a number of new variations - Formosus being the most prominent.

Formosus had established his own routine by now, a whole month after arriving in New Orleans, and presently he was at the table going about it with his usual studiousness. After missing so many centuries, reading was his prime fascination, at least for the first hour or so of every evening - history, novels, biographies, manuals, magazines, picture books. He devoured dozens of books every evening, and this evening was no exception.

Marius glanced up and saw that just as the night before, Formosus seemed to be concentrating on poetry. Last night he had been reading Romantic poetry and had been quite pleased with what he had found. Didn't Marius find it odd that English, the most barbarian of languages, could produce such subtle rhyme, such graceful rhythm? Later on that evening he had recited several poems from memory, pronouncing them with his lovely Latin accent.

Tonight twentieth century verse apparently reined supreme. Marius noted the various authors and wondered which poems would strike Formosus' heart. He wondered what the young ancient would make of the modern perspective, the modern meter or lack thereof. Marius picked up the first newspaper and had just begun to read the lead article when he heard a sharp intake of breath from the direction of the table.

Marius looked up. Formosus sat frozen, his hands clutching a small book, forming a frame around the shape of the poem, as if he was attempting to hold them fast in place. Marius met his eyes and asked gently, with his mind, _What is it?_

Formosus quivered slightly, as if the thought had struck him unexpectedly, but rapidly he recovered. "This poem," he said slowly, "is so fine. It is one of the finest things I have ever read." He paused and looked down at the page one more. "Marius, may I read it to you?"

Marius nodded but also asked, "May I ask what is it you are about to read?"

"Oh!" Formosus answered with a laugh. "I forgot to say. The title is French, _'Musee des Beaux Arts.'_ The author is a one W.H. Auden. Do you know it?" Once again the voice had grown serious.

"Yes, Formosus, I know it. You understand that this poem refers to a painting by Brueghel of the fall of Icarus?"

"So I gathered. There is a note in the book to that effect."

"Oh," Marius replied flatly. "Well, then read it to me."

"But you have heard it before!" Formosus protested.

Marius sighed. "I'm 2000 years old. I've heard _everything_ before, Formosus, don't let it worry you."

Marius watched as Formosus turned away from the table to face him more directly. Setting the book on his lap, he began to read:

 

> About suffering they were never wrong,  
>  The Old Masters: how well they understood  
>  Its human position; how it takes place  
>  While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;  
>  How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting  
>  For the miraculous birth, there always must be  
>  Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating  
>  On a pond at the edge of the wood:  
>  They never forgot  
>  That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course  
>  Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot  
>  Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse  
>  Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

Formosus paused, holding up one hand to indicate there was more to go. The conclusion:

 

> In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away  
>  Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may  
>  Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,  
>  But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone  
>  As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green  
>  Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen  
>  Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,  
>  Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formosus and Marius discuss suffering, then and now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

He closed the book and his eyes. After a moment, the eyes open them and met Marius' gaze.

"That is lovely, is it not?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Marius nodded. "Terrible things happen, and so much of it is peripheral. No one notices."

"Like us, for example," Formosus put in quickly. "How many lives have we taken, and yet who has ever really noticed?"

"Oh, that has been noticed. At least the deaths have been noticed, if not their cause. But other tragedies, other sorrows, wholesale murder and destruction, wars even, have happened and people have ignored it because it suited their interests. Look at the world turning its back on the Jews in World War II. Whole countries in Africa losing what seems like every last man, woman and child to war, famine, poverty, disease, and meanwhile the rich sail onward, spending their money on houses, Internet stocks and coffee drinks."

Marius had lost faith in human progress some years ago and had not regained it. He wondered what Formosus would have to say on the topic.

"I think, Marius, that in a way I am much less surprised by modern times than you are," Formosus said, obviously having read Marius' mind, which was becoming quite usual. "I do not expect there to be a higher level of understanding or empathy. I did not watch mankind evolve over the millennia. I did not see the coming of reasoning, science, this thing called 'humanism.' All I see is the same brutality I saw before and the same denial there always was."

Marius nodded and Formosus went on. "You know yourself that rich Romans did not sit around worrying about the plight of the poor or the barbarians the legions were grinding into the ground. They went to see the gladiator matches, watched men executed by exotic means, eaten alive by wild animals. And lesser suffering, smaller tragedies, have always happened as the poet says, noticed by but a few. Struggling starving artists unknown in their own time celebrated as 'Old Masters' years after their deaths. Friendless mortals dying alone in the streets, unmourned. The song, as they say, remains the same."

Marius laughed. "Formosus, sometimes you make me feel almost foolish. You challenge me. And no one ever does that. You do realize this, don't you?"

"I had never considered it. But I do not know you the way the others do. We have no history, no precedents. I base my understanding of you only on a short period of experience and having read the books... which illuminate things somewhat but not entirely."

"Oh, not nearly entirely," Marius sighed. "Wait until you see my memoir - then we will all know more about me. Although I suspect by the time that's published I will have shared much of my story with you directly. It's so much easier to share when the person you're sharing with isn't involved." He paused. "Armand, for example... is difficult to speak to. Even though he himself has written of our life together, I still find it difficult to express just what was going on in my mind during that time."

"Do not dwell on it, not right now," Formosus soothed. "Read your newspaper. I will go back to my poetry for now."

Marius acquiesced. He read the paper but was thinking of Armand. When would he be returning? He had felt closer to him lately, simply because Formosus had been opening him up. He felt that soon he and Armand would be able to truly talk and perhaps even love one another as it was meant to be. Although nowadays that seemed less of a priority since Formosus was giving him the kind of love he had always wanted.

The two vampires read in silence for perhaps an hour. Then, at last, Formosus stacked his books and standing with them bundled in his arms, announced to Marius, "I'm going out."

Marius looked up. "Out? By yourself?"

Formosus nodded. He had gone out on his own a few times but admitted to Marius that he preferred to go with company because he felt safer.

"Yes, by myself," he answered. "Do you mind?"

"No, certainly not. I'm sure you can handle yourself."

"Fine, I will leave as soon as I put these away" Formosus replied as he entered the house to replace the books in the library.

He emerged a few minutes later having obviously brushed his hair washed his face, which still glistened with moisture.

"I'm going, Marius," he said, leaning to kiss his beloved on the lips.

"Take care, my love," Marius replied, stroking the top of the curly black haired head. "Do you know when you'll be back?"

"Oh, probably by midnight. I am just going for a walk, nowhere in particular."

Marius nodded and watched him walk away into the trees. He was happy Formosus would not be gone all night, because he had formulated plans as to how the two of them could spend the rest of the evening. They did not involve going out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the moment of Marius' greatest peace, calamity strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

Marius continued reading his newspapers for an hour and then went about the business of taking care of the house, tending the plants, taking care of a bit of paperwork. Everything was much as it had been a month ago but yet at the same time, it was all so different, wasn't it? Before he appreciated life but no one appreciated him, not the way he had desired. Now things had changed. In a few hours he would be with Formosus. And that made all the difference in the world.

How perfect his life seemed to him at this moment. Not in a long time had things been so serene. Those Who Must Be Kept were gone from his life. No shrine, no great secret, no more of their stony stares. Armand had been found and he was living a happy life full of love. And he was not alone, that was the key, wasn't it? He wasn't alone and he was with someone that he could simply... love. He was not a maker, a mentor, an adversary. He and Formosus were able to relate purely on the level of the heart with nothing standing in between. Surely there was no greater blessing to be found on earth.

Concluding his work inside the house, Marius stood placing a vase in an alcove when suddenly his mind was jolted. The vase fell and shattered on the floor as his hands opened in pure shock. He saw - no, actually, _felt_ \- an explosion, somewhere in the city, and he saw fire, felt the searing hear, chemicals burning, and above it all, encompassing all, he felt pain. A scream of the mind welled up, shrieking in an unmistakable voice, _Salve me!_ Formosus was dying. 

* * *

Before he had given the matter a second of conscious thought, Marius was flying out the door to the scene of the tragedy. It was an accident. He saw the gas tanker truck in flames, the gas station charred and blown to bits. Human bodies were strewn on the concrete, tangled in the debris. He choked on the thickness of the gasoline fumes in the air.

But this assessment lasted but a moment. He had to find Formosus. He was not on this block, he was farther away. Yes, two blocks down the road, in an alley. Had he been blown away by the force of the explosion, or had he flown there with his mind?

In a moment, Marius found him and suddenly no questions made any difference. Formosus lay on a trash heap, absolutely broken, and appeared to have been incinerated. His body looked like nothing so much as what the Romans had called _crematio_ , the burnt remains after a body had been burnt in the funeral fire.

Marius shuddered, thinking of the burns he himself had suffered all those years ago. The pain screamed out from Formosus' mind. Yes, he is alive inside that body, Marius thought. We can live, even like that.

The body retained its form, but the skin had been burned horribly and clearly a great deal of blood had been lost. Formosus seemed to wither under Marius' very eyes.

" _Calamitas,_ " Formosus choked through burnt lips, immediately lapsing back to into unconsciousness.

Quickly Marius gathered Formosus up in his arms to fly him home. Agony it was, to feel his suffering, but he had to be taken away from here. He must be taken to safety. Whether these injuries could be healed, Marius didn't know. No one can know that. But he had to try. There was no alternative.

* * *

In the basement of his house, Marius laid Formosus on the cool marble of the bath. The pain continued and would only grow worse with the water, but Marius knew that the wounds needed to be cleansed. The skin was covered with soot and the stench of gasoline was strong. The water would burn as surely as the fire, he knew.

As he turned on the water and began to pour it over the blistering skin, Marius knew that time was running short. Formosus' heartbeat was slowing. There was simply not enough blood left for it to pump. The agony rose and swelled at the touch of the water and blood tears flowed from his seared eyes.

Marius quickly removed the remains of Formosus' clothing, his jewelry, and any remaining dirt. After a minute or so, there was no more waiting. The blood was the only cure. Marius tore a gash in his own wrist and began to cover Formosus with the healing elixir. His face, chest, arms, legs. Marius saw the blood doing some good, but there was much damage. It was time to offer himself not in droplets but in full measure.

He took the body from the bath and placed it on a plain, clean bed in the next room. Quickly, desperately, he lay himself beside Formosus and pressed his neck against the once luscious lips. _Drink, my darling, drink!_ At first there was no movement, and Marius feared the worst. He has given up. He will not drink. He will grow silent. But suddenly there was a wild thrashing beside him and he felt the bite upon his neck.

Formosus drew the blood in great draughts. He pulled so hard Marius had to hold to the side of the bed to keep himself from crying out. Formosus was nearly choking, he was taking so much. And so quickly. He had no will of his own, Marius realized; the raging spirit of his blood had taken over. _More! More! Please, Marius, more!_

But there was no more, Marius realized. It would not be enough. The burns were still there and although the flesh was slightly fuller, it was still a parched and wounded thing, not a true body. Oh, ye gods, what was he to do? He had to draw himself away, to escape before he himself grew too weak. Formosus fell back, seemingly no stronger than before.

A movement behind him. Turning, Marius saw Louis and Lestat coming rushing into the room. As one, they stopped short and stared. Almost as if on cue, a scream erupted from both of them, so loud it hurt Marius' ears.

"Don't scream, don't scream!" Marius cried desperately. When was the last time he had found himself in such hysterics? I didn't matter, nothing mattered but saving this life. Grasping Lestat's shoulders, he gathered his wits and said solemnly, "Lestat, do something for me. Please. Do something for _him!_ Give him your blood. This instant."

Lestat nodded. Of course. It was a small thing and he knew what it was like to be burnt. He saw in his mind the mighty gasoline explosion that had caused this terrible accident and he felt the searing pain pouring forth from Formosus' mind. Yes, he would do anything for this one, absolutely anything. Without a word, he lowered himself onto the bed and offered his neck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The healing begins, and Louis learns he has more power than he suspected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

Even after Lestat had given all he had, Formosus was still in need. His face was taking shape and the more ghastly wounds were nearly sealed. His heart was pumping blood and his breath was growing more steady. But more was needed, that was clear.

Marius was despondent. The blood tears came as they had been coming all along. What now? What were they going to do? He found it difficult to reason. His head was nearly spinning.

Lestat, on the other hand, had a very definite plan of action. "Marius, we need to feed!" he announced.

Marius whirled and shot back "What?! And leave Formosus alone?"

A small voice came from behind. Louis, who had seated himself at the foot of the bed.

"He won't be alone, Marius. I'll stay here with him. I'm of no use as a healer, my blood is too weak, but I will watch over him. Go out and fill yourselves. Do not worry, I will see that no... further harm comes to him."

Marius nodded gratefully. Thank goodness someone was thinking straight. He disappeared out the door just behind Lestat, who had already left.

Louis looked at Formosus and tried to calm the fear he could not help but feel. This one had been horribly burnt. Was it worse that what he had done to Lestat? Was it worse that what Marius had suffered at the hands of Santino's coven? It was bad, that was certain. To drink from two powerful vampires and still be suffering? Louis knew that he would have died in an instant had it been him.

Formosus stirred and there was a strained look on his face as he attempted to speak.

"Shhhh, quiet, little one," Louis whispered. "Save your strength."

Still Formosus struggled, and then finally: "Your blood."

Louis felt a lump form in his throat. "I... can't. I am too weak, too young. And it would do you no good. My blood has no magic in it."

Formosus nodded slowly, the movement erratic. "But, Louis, only a little drink. In love only, only for love, to soothe me. Please. Think happy, lovely thoughts. Lift me out of this pain."

After a moment's hesitation, Louis was beside him on the bed, baring his throat. How could he resist? As long as it was only a small amount, not the full measure, he would suffer no ill effects. It was the least he could do.

Formosus latched on and gently drew the blood. He did not pull on Louis as he had on Marius and Lestat. Louis knew that he was taking care not to draw too much, not to strain Louis' heart. And Louis repaid this kindness, thinking up happy scenes, beautiful paintings, phrases from poetry books, the faces of children, images of the moon, the stars, music... all mixed together in a wondrous collage of sound and color.

It did not last long, but afterward, when Louis drew himself away, he felt he could see a change in Formosus. His body looked less pained, more relaxed. Had his blood had some effect?

"It was not the blood," Formosus whispered hoarsely. "It was the spirit. Thank you, Louis, I feel... better."

Formosus closed his eyes and somehow, despite the remaining scabs and scars on his once gorgeous face, he managed a smile. 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Louis heard footsteps in the hall. Lestat and Marius had returned, as had Armand, fresh from his recent trip. Armand's face appeared expressionless with pure shock. He, too, had been burnt, and not long ago either, and seeing someone else in that position brought back the feelings. That agony!

"He looks better," Marius said, patting Louis lightly on the shoulder. "Thank you for taking such care."

"It was nothing, and I think he enjoyed it," Louis replied. It was only after he had said this that he realized how the comment could be construed.

Lestat gave him a sharp look and Marius was about to ask a question when the silent cry came. _More blood!_

Like a bucket brigade fighting a fire, they came to the bed one after another and offered their blood. Lestat went first, then Armand. Finally Marius came and, rather than offering his throat, he cut his wrists again and again and sealed the wounds on Formosus' flesh - legs, shoulders, back, chest, neck, every inch of his skin, even his scalp.

Finally they stepped back. Formosus looked better. It was undeniable. He was going to live. He would not be crippled. He was going to survive. His flesh had filled out and his skin was whole. Aside from the dried blood and the way he remained prostrate, weak, on the bed, he looked nearly his old self.

Formosus, who had had his eyes closed, now opened them, and slowly he picked up his head, sat himself up, arms behind for support, and appraised the situation.

"I am whole," he said simply.

He fell back suddenly, obviously still not entirely recovered. He was not through speaking, however, and his right hand made a gesture that said, "Wait! Don't interrupt!"

"Marius, remember earlier? That poem? I think I can still remember the second half. Let me say it now, it strikes me as appropriate:

> In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away  
> Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may  
> Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,  
> But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone  
> As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green  
> Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen  
> Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,  
> Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

I fortunately, have no been so forsaken. My disaster did not go unnoticed."

Finally he had finished his speech. Apparently it was too much for him, as a moment later, before anyone could reply, he closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius reveals his weaknesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

The four vampires watched in silence for almost a half an hour before finally heading, as of one mind, up the stairs to the garden.

Armand was the first to speak. "Marius, how bad was it - I mean, before it was healed?"

"Bad," Marius replied. "It was as bad as my burns after... the fire."

Armand nodded. Image of Marius in flames. He managed to say: "I thought so. I went into the sun and even I did not require so much blood. And I didn't have the healing blood, only mortals."

Lestat, who had been usually reflective, snapped into his more typical mode and said, "Yes, and as I recall, I had none of the healing blood either. I was left nothing but rats and babies," he said, poking Louis in the ribs and smiling. He would never stop teasing him about that scene in the book.

Louis looked hurt. "Lestat, you know I -"

"Never mind, cher, never mind. You know that is past. And anyway, I had to learn my lessons the hard way."

Louis nodded. "That you have amply demonstrated." He kissed Lestat on the cheek, who visibly quickened with the unexpected affection.

"Now," Lestat announced, "I think all of us will agree that we will in future avoid close proximity to tanker trucks, yes?"

Louis and Armand nodded. Marius looked somber.

Armand, after examining his maker's face for a moment, grasped his hands and met his eyes. "Marius, it's not your fault."

Louis was stunned. "Surely you don't blame yourself, do you?" he asked.

Marius didn't answer. That in itself was an answer.

"How can you?" Lestat asked. "He went out alone and this happened to him. End of story."

"But I should have been there to protect him, to warn him," Marius sobbed.

Marius crying like this was an extraordinary sight for all of them, if not a first. Armand remembered Marius' weeping clearly from the years in Venice. Once again, the tears were from love.

"He would not have you weep over him this way," Louis said assuringly. "He does not demand your protection, nor does he warrant it. He is strong and wise. He is not your fledgling."

"Ha!" Marius declared. "Ha! Even if he were, that would not be without precedent, my failure to protect him. Tell them, Armand, am I not somewhat neglectful by nature?"

"No, Marius, no!" Armand whispered, still grasping his maker's hands. "We are past that, understand? We are past that. And this thing that has happened has nothing to do with you. It is an accident. Formosus I am sure will not blame you. You helped to save him. He will only love you more."

Marius was about to say that he hoped this was true when there came the call from below: _Marius, come to me!_

When Marius arrived downstairs, Formosus lay in the same position in which they had left him. His eyes were closed and his arms were at his sides. As Marius took a seat on the end of the bed, there was no change, but the voice was clear: _Marius, I love you. Do not torment yourself on my account. This was an accident. I was_ ambustulatus _, but I will recover. Everything will be as before. I will love you. Always._

Marius cried fresh tears.

_No more tears. Do not cry. Turn out the light and leave me here. I will see you in the evening. I must rest. And remember: I will love you._

Marius rose and planted a kiss on the tender cheek. He switched off the light and went upstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion. The suspense is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

The next evening Marius rose after a day of terrible dreams. Over and over, he saw the explosion, saw Formosus on fire, saw every ounce of blood leaving his body. There were screams, agony, the smell of burning flesh.

His first thought upon waking was to go to Formosus. He wanted to see if he had recovered. He had not seen him since leaving him the night before. He had ordered everyone to leave him alone. But now he wanted to see. He restrained himself finally. He would go about his nightly routine and then if it was clear something was wrong, he would go and check. He wanted to see but in a way he didn't. The pain would be too great.

Lestat and Louis had stayed over and he found them in the living room. Armand was out on the patio, where the three of them joined him. Silent questions stared from their faces. How was Formosus? Had he seen him? Was he better?

"I haven't seen him," Marius said flatly. "I thought I would read my newspapers."

A low laugh from Lestat. "Of course, your newspapers. That is surely the most pressing issue of the moment - not!" Lestat could be incredibly insolent at times and his command of contemporary slang was remarkable.

"I simply would like to see if he will rise on his own. He told me he was feeling better. And he told me that he loved me."

No one made any remarks as Marius fetched the newspapers. They split them up and read them in silence, no one really reading any of the words.

Finally Marius looked up. Lestat turned his head. Armand dropped his paper into his lap. Louis quickly stood and said, startled, "Formosus!"

There he stood on the threshold, clad in a flowing golden robe and sandals, holding onto the side of the doorway. His skin was scarred a luminous, glowing white, but he was whole. And he was standing. And he was smiling.

"My saviors," he whispered. His hand left the doorframe and he took a step forward. Clearly he was still unsteady.

Marius rushed forward just in time to catch him in a fall.

"Where would you like me to put you?" he asked with a slight tinge of humor in his voice.

"Better make it soft," Formosus whispered.

Louis ran into the house and returned with a down comforter from the bedroom. He stretched it neatly out on the lawn and motioned for Marius. Formosus dropped down gratefully.

"Heaven," he sighed. "I truly do not know how to thank you. But I do. And I always will."


End file.
